


A Bird In Flight, Against the Sky

by anax imperator (anax)



Series: Objective Uncertainty, Held Fast [3]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, M/M, not even slightly worksafe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3284876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anax/pseuds/anax%20imperator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard for Dante to handle Nero even at the best of times.  These were not the best of times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bird In Flight, Against the Sky

Dante was kind of happy Nero had been out of the office when this job had come in. These devils were pretty weak, but the cemetery was absolutely swarming with them, enough to make the fight interesting. It had been a while since Dante had been able to have an interesting fight, and he was enjoying it.

The devils came in a couple of different varieties, the most fun being some flying insectoid creatures. Mindless and bloodthirsty, they went down in a single shot through the head, but they dipped and whirled so quickly, and it was so dark here in the middle of the night, that it was actually a challenge to hit them in the head. The leaping reptilian devils and the smaller hissing ones were best handled with Dante's sword, so he switched between weapons every few seconds to keep the things at bay.

This whole business probably would have been easier if he'd brought more than just Rebellion and his handguns, but he hadn't, and anyway this made it more entertaining. It was like a game, in a way, keeping these things and their blood off his coat with only the weapons he had.

He could see that more were emerging from one of the mausoleums, and he took a step in that direction at every opportunity. The devils weren't smart enough to try to head him off until he was almost there, and then they rushed him in a crowd. His boots were splattered in gore by the time he got inside the mausoleum.

No gate in there, as he'd half-expected, but it had been broken open inside and there was what initially looked to be a solid pile of devils in the center of the floor. It was only when Dante began to kill them and they lunged to attack him that he saw that they'd been milling over a stack of corpses. There were so many bodies that Dante doubted they'd all come from this mausoleum, but there was no smell of fresh decay at least.

It was easier to kill them in here, as they had less space to evade his sword. It was almost pitch-black, but the flying ones could not employ quite as many aerobatics and Dante had little trouble tracking them in the light of his guns' muzzle flashes. It took him only minutes to dispatch them all, and all of the ones from the outside that followed him in.

And wasn't that satisfying, to be surrounded by dead and dying devils, twitching out their lives on the ground? Dante took a few moments to just admire his own work.

However, now that all the devils were dead he could see what they'd been doing. The corpses they'd dragged out of the compartments of this mausoleum, and probably from elsewhere around the cemetery, were crawling with larvae. This was some kind of hatchery.

"Damn," said Dante. He moved so as not to block what little light came through the door, and he pushed the tip of Rebellion into the stack and twisted it to lever some of the bones and tattered clothing apart. A solid mass of larvae burrowed deeper into the pile at the disturbance; there must have been hundreds, maybe thousands of them in there. The best way to kill these things would be to burn them out, but Dante had brought nothing that would let him light a fire.

He'd have to leave and come back. "Damn," he said again.

Outside the mausoleum he tried to think of the best and fastest way to do this. It would be a long drive back home; he'd probably be better off getting some gasoline from the convenience store he'd passed fifteen miles back on his way here. He started toward his car, but then abruptly stopped as he became aware that there was yet another devil in that direction, a much more powerful one than the things he'd just slaughtered. It was moving toward him, and Dante stopped to let it come to him.

The devil came around a stand of trees, and even if it hadn't been for the bright blue glow from his forearm Dante would have recognized him. "What are you doing here, kid?" he asked, although he had a good idea as to the reason.

"These things are a waste of your time," said Nero.

"Maybe I'll be the one to decide how I spend my time." Dante resumed walking toward his car. "How'd you find me?"

"I called Morrison when I got in." Nero stopped where he was; the kid was fully armed, Dante saw. That had implications, and Dante wasn't sure how he felt about them. "Didn't expect to find you killing vermin."

"Someone had to do it, and you weren't home."

Dante walked by Nero, and, as expected, Nero's weight shifted and there was a movement of air; Dante whipped his sword up and over his shoulder to block a full-strength strike aimed at his neck. He turned and gave his sword a hard shove as he did, and swapped his sword for his guns, and an instant later Nero was twenty feet away with his own gun out.

Nero didn't fire immediately, and his expression was unreadable in the darkness, but it wasn't hard to guess the antecedent to this little fight nor how it was going to end. Dante's body reacted with full and eager arousal, but Dante himself was more ambivalent. Did he really want this? Did it matter?

"Don't break any headstones," Dante said, and Nero gave a sharp nod as he pulled the trigger.

Dante moved aside for the first two bullets and used Ebony and Ivory to deflect the next two. This gave him no time to swap back to his sword to catch Nero's lightning-fast attack with Red Queen. It was a cute bit of tactics - the kid was learning - but Dante just leapt over the vicious slashes instead and gave Nero a hard kick to the face as he did it.

He did it purposefully to enrage the kid, and it worked. Nero snarled and tried to slap Dante to the ground with the specter of his demon hand, a blow that Dante was only just able to evade. After that, the kid's tactics mainly consisted of trying to murder Dante by sheer force, and Dante found himself actually having to take steps backward to evade the dual threats of Nero's sword and Nero's demon arm. He didn't fight back much, because he _wanted_ to fight back, and he _wanted_ to humiliate the kid, and hurt him and force him to his knees, and then fuck him into the ground, and if he let himself that was exactly what was going to happen. He made a game out of keeping just out of Nero's reach, the same as he'd made a game out of keeping devil blood off his coat.

But then Nero made a too-forceful lunge and was too slow to recover, and Dante just kind of reacted without thinking. The moment of vulnerability twitched something in his mind, primed by the arousal burning through him, and Dante swept in to give Nero a crippling stab through the thigh.

Pain shocked across Nero's face, but he barely made a sound as Rebellion went through his leg, or when Dante ripped the blade back out. Dante stepped back, in no danger of any counterattack for the moment and certain now how this was going to play out. Nero's leg folded under him, his pant leg turning black around the rip, and the smell of blood hit Dante in a tantalizing wave that made his mouth water and his erection tighten. Dante's fingers tingled; he had to fight the urge to pounce on the kid and brutalize him.

Were Nero human, the injury would have been life-threatening, but Nero wasn't human. He glared furiously at Dante, and then blue glory flared around him in a rush of wind and power. "That," said Nero, every word reverberating, as he got his injured leg back under him and stood up straight, "was a dirty move."

Painfully hard with anticipation, Dante said, "I have a few more dirty moves in mind for you." Then he had to dodge three fast sword strikes aimed at his chest.

 _Now_ the fight turned potentially deadly, with Nero flush with power and out for Dante's blood. Not only was Nero fast and deadly, the spectral devil that manifested behind him mirrored all of his sword strikes, so that Red Queen came at him from Nero's left hand, and the shadow of Yamato from the specter's right.

That made parrying essentially impossible, and evasion much more complicated than before, but openings could still be created and Dante felt no further need to delay matters. He knew how this was going to end, and he ached to end it. He could already feel Nero against him, and could already taste Nero's mouth. The kid was all but vibrating with power, and Dante no longer wanted to even try to resist its call.

Dante stepped up onto one of the headstones and began to hop from stone to stone to avoid the dual swords. He expected Nero, having promised not to destroy any of them, to reach out to yank Dante back down to the ground. The instant it happened, the moment Nero put one foot back to brace himself for that yank, Dante stepped through space and took him by the wrists, forcing his arms apart.

It was like putting his hands on a live wire, the power racing through Dante's blood, and he almost came on the spot. The kid thrashed, snarling, trying to escape the hold, but Dante just stepped closer, pushing his arms farther apart. He forced Nero to turn slightly so that his heel caught on the edge of a headstone, and the kid tripped, and then crashed to the ground with Dante atop him.

"I _hate you!"_ said Nero, the words baritone and menacing, but when Dante kissed him, he returned it eagerly, sucking hard on Dante's tongue. He continued to fight the hold, yanking and kicking and bucking, his body so _strong_ and so difficult to control, but when Dante shoved their hips together he could feel the kid's erection.

With Dante's hands on Nero's wrists and their mouths connected, and their chests and hips pressed together, Dante was able to close his eyes and let the sheer energy pouring out of the kid flood through him. He let his body react for him, moving to counter Nero's struggling and pin him more securely to the ground, and Nero continued to fight but he had no hope of breaking free. There came a point when the kid acknowledged this and surrendered, and Dante felt it in the easing of the younger man's struggles. He released Nero's wrists, and arms went around him, up under his coat. Dante moaned into Nero's mouth, and moved his kiss down to Nero's chin, and the line of his throat.

"Yes." Nero's whisper was deep and demonic. "Dante." He was panting now, clutching his conqueror close, hooking a leg around the back of Dante's thigh to press his erection hard into Dante's hip.

Dante groped down into Nero's front pants pockets, and yes, the kid had brought lubricant and a couple of condoms. _Damn,_ he was so hard. He hadn't exactly been saying _no_ before this point, but this - proof positive of Nero's motive in coming here - clinched it. There was no way Dante would even try to stop himself now.

With a growl, he pushed the condoms into Nero's hand, and went back to savagely kissing the devil beneath him, letting Nero take care of the logistics. The kid unfastened and unzipped Dante's pants, and when he took the older hunter's erection in hand the direct contact with that glowing flush of power was enough to make Dante almost lose his mind. He snapped and bit Nero's lip, and thrust hard into the kid's hand until he felt the prick of claws on his cock. Nero tried to push him back a bit, and Dante resisted that for a few seconds before he caught himself, and remembered what he was doing.

He broke the kiss and moved his lips down to Nero's ear. "Hurry," he whispered, and then he forced himself to move back and give the kid a little space.

Nero, wisps of blue fire still writhing around him, had his eyes almost closed, and by touch alone he unrolled a condom over Dante's erection and smeared it with lubricant. Dante lost it again for a second, unfocused lust slamming his hips forward as he recaptured Nero's mouth, and Nero ran both hands into Dante's hair to hold him in that snarling kiss. But just thrusting into air wasn't what Dante wanted, and it wasn't what Nero wanted either, and the kid seemed to have a better grip on his wits than Dante did, even if only marginally and only for the moment.

Again, Dante resisted the shove against his chest, until Nero tilted back his head to separate their mouths and the loss of that point of contact cleared the older hunter's head a little. He tongued down Nero's throat and yielded, and the moment the kid had enough space he frantically opened his jeans and yanked them down to his knees, and then squirmed around onto his belly.

"Dante," said Nero, as Dante took him by the throat with one hand and hauled him up to his knees with the other, and pushed his coat tails up onto his back. "Yes. Do it."

Dante needed no encouragement, but he nevertheless took a moment to collect himself. He couldn't let himself get carried away. He couldn't just take what he wanted, no matter how willing Nero might be to facilitate that. The body he held in his arms was radiant, as bright as the sun, pouring with energy that charged Dante's every muscle and bone, but this was _Nero._ This body had a name, it was a person, it was _Nero._ He had to remember that.

"Nero," he whispered.

"Yes." Nero pushed his head back onto Dante's shoulder, submitting to the hold on his throat. "Do it." His voice was a devil's voice, deep and resonant.

There was only enough self-control left in Dante to line up the tip of his cock and push it slowly into the kid's body, but then he lost his mind again, because being _inside_ that furnace of power was a thousand times more intense than merely having Nero's hands on him. The sheer pleasure of it just dissolved him, and Dante bit the back of the kid's coat collar and growled into it as he rammed again and again into that live wire. All he could feel was the ecstasy of finally, finally getting to fuck this devil that had defied and attacked him, of finally getting to expend his lust in the creature's tight body. He was only partially aware of snarling noises, like those of a demonic animal, and _no, Nero, this was Nero._

It was Nero snarling, it was Nero pulling on the hand that Dante had splayed across the tight muscles of the kid's abdomen, it was Nero supporting his weight and pushing back against him with every thrust. Dante panted into the back of Nero's coat and moved his hand to shove his index finger into the kid's mouth, to stifle the demonic sounds, and Nero sucked hard on his finger as though trying to swallow it. It was just so _good,_ and so _much,_ and Dante drove into the body beneath him and it was so hard to remember that this wasn't just a demon, or something nameless and faceless into which to rut. The kid was still triggered, still exuding energy, and Dante was just drowning in it.

His other hand, the one not in Nero's mouth, was pried away from Nero's belly and forced a little lower, pressed against warm flesh, and it was as much by reflex as by volition that Dante wrapped his hand around the kid's erection in a tight grip. Nero's hips jerked, uncoordinated but powerful, and then Dante felt his hand being forced forward and back, jacking off the devil under him. That was all he could take ... he hit the edge, teetered there, and then dropped straight into a back-arching orgasm that made him bite the back of Nero's coat and drew hoarse cries from his throat.

It was only when the blue fire vanished, from view and from the sure knowledge Dante had of the devil beneath him, and when Nero simply collapsed under Dante's weight, that it was apparent that the kid had come, too.

They lay that way for some time, Dante couldn't even begin to guess how long. Beneath him, Nero was breathing but not much else, and through the haze of pleasure Dante figured that the kid had probably gone unconscious again. He lifted himself, pulled Nero's shoulder and rolled the younger man onto his back and yes, Nero's body was completely slack. That was okay. Dante gave him a gentle kiss, and then set about straightening up, disposing of the condom in the grass and closing his clothes, and getting Nero's jeans back up around his hips.

Dante didn't really feel like moving after that, but there were still those larvae to worry about, and he'd be damned before he left Nero laying senseless on the ground while he drove fifteen miles to fetch gasoline. So he picked up Nero's sword and then Nero himself, his body utterly limp, lifting him bridal-style to carry him to the cars. Nero's car was just going to have to wait here; Dante tucked the kid into the passenger seat of the convertible, tilting back the seat so he'd be more comfortable when he woke up.

Then Dante ran his fingers through Nero's hair and just gazed at him for a minute. The kid looked different when fury wasn't creasing his features. Not younger - if anything he looked less like a petulant teenager and more his age - but maybe somehow sweeter. Nero would go incandescent were Dante to ever so much as hint that to his face, but Nero was out cold at the moment so Dante could think it safely.

Still no sign that Nero was going to wake up, so Dante buckled him in before starting the car, and put the top up so the kid wouldn't come to with wind up his nose.

At the gas station Dante had to buy a can for the gas before he could buy the gas, and while he was settling that up with an intimidated-looking cashier, the police officer who was loitering at the coffee machine took exception to the fact that he'd worn his handguns into the building. Dante had not given even the first thought to it so it took him a moment to realize what the problem was.

"Oh, damn," he said. "Is this one of those places with gun laws? I hate places with gun laws."

"Yeah," said the cop. "Carrying weapons into an isolated convenience store is not encouraged around here."

"Well, they're not loaded." Dante gave the cop Ebony to check. "Do they really count as weapons?"

The cop gave the gun a once-over, then pulled back the slide to check the chamber and popped the magazine. "You always walk around with _unloaded_ handguns on your person?"

"It's a habit," said Dante, offering Ivory for inspection. An inexplicable habit, so he didn't attempt to explain it.

"Mind if I ask where you're headed?" The officer turned Ivory over. "Mr. Redgrave?"

Dante wondered how this cop might reply if he said he was going back to the rural cemetery down the road to burn out a nest of devil larvae that were growing on the remains of the good people of this area. That could be kind of amusing. "My nephew ran his car out of gas near a cemetery not far from here. We're just going to go put a couple gallons in it and then go home."

If the cop decided to follow him to the cemetery, this could become irritating, but as long as Nero woke up before they got there it would at least be a workable lie. After checking Ivory's magazine and chamber and finding it, too, unloaded, the officer handed both guns back. "You be careful," he said. "There's been talk of rabid animals in the woods these past few weeks."

"Oh, I don't think we'll have any trouble," said Dante with a smile. He holstered his weapons. "Thanks for the warning, though."

The cop did not interfere any further as Dante paid for the gas can and the gas, or when Dante pumped gas into the can and then put the can into the trunk of his car. Dante gave a little wave before getting in.

"Nero, Nero, Nero," he said as he started the car. "It's a damned good thing I didn't have to explain why you are out like you've overdosed on heroin. Because I have no idea what I would have told him."

Halfway back to the cemetery, Nero finally began to stir, sniffing and twitching, and then finally saying, "Where are we?"

"I decided to kidnap you," said Dante. "We just crossed the border. I hope you like Mexican, kid, because there's going to be a lot of it where I'm taking you."

"Hrmph." Nero closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, and it was a testament to how drowsy he was that his only answer was, "Really, where are we?"

"Almost back at the cemetery. Those devils have a hatchery in one of the mausoleums. I had to get some gasoline to burn them out, and I brought you with me to go get it."

"Oh. That was nice of you."

Damn, the kid was _so_ out of it. Dante liked him like this, and wondered if there was an easier way to get him into this state.

Back at the cemetery Dante held off on burning out the devils for a while, because he wanted Nero to be in a condition to drive immediately after setting the fire. He put the convertible's top down, and Nero lay sideways across the seats with his head in Dante's lap and his legs propped up on the door, and it was the most adorable thing Dante had ever seen the kid do.

"There was this huge cat thing," Nero said, when Dante inquired on what it was the kid had killed. "But it looked like a little normal cat at first. Have you ever seen that? Where they disguise themselves as animals?"

"Every now and then," said Dante.

"It was so cute," said Nero. "I like cats, you know. I didn't want to kill it, but then it turned into this huge monster and it wasn't so cute anymore." He made a vague gesture with his left hand, like he was cutting with his sword but not in a very coordinated way. "That thing had so many teeth, and it tried to eat my devil bringer."

Dante ran his fingers through the fringe of Nero's hair, and the kid didn't object. "What made you decide to come hunt me down?"

"Oh, Dante, you didn't see that thing." He closed his eyes and let his glowing hand rest on his chest, while he toyed with the bloody gash in his jeans with the other. "It was _huge,_ and the way it moved. It was so fast. It was so much fun to kill it, it was actually a challenge. It bit me, like five times. I was so turned on when it was finally dead. Getting paid took _forever,_ and then I went home and you weren't even there." Nero laughed. "I would have followed you to the moon if I had to."

"Hmmm." Dante looked up; the moon wasn't visible, but there was a shine off behind some trees that betrayed its location. "I haven't had any jobs on the moon yet. Do you think there are devils up there?"

Again Nero laughed, and it was so nice to hear the kid sounding happy. "Let's hope not. I'm not ready to join the space program."

"Ready to join the driving public yet?"

"Ahhh." Nero stretched, and then said, "If I have to."

"I'd like to get this done and get home sometime this week."

Slowly, Nero turned to get his legs into the car and himself sitting upright, and then he paused to think about it. "Yeah," he said. "I can drive. Need me for anything?"

"No," said Dante. "Just head home. I'll meet you there."

Before getting out, Nero leaned over and gave Dante a slow kiss, which was not as surprising as it would have been if the kid had been in his right mind. Damned if Dante didn't really enjoy this affectionate version of Nero. It was too bad he had to be literally fucked into this state, not that Dante minded doing that exactly, but it took so much out of Nero to crash his trigger that it couldn't be an everyday thing. It was a crying shame to run the kid off early so that Dante could finish this job.

Maybe Nero would still be at least riding the tails of this mood by the time they both got home. Dante could hope.

He saw Nero onto the road, and then pushed the cigarette lighter in under the dashboard and got the can of gasoline out the trunk. He'd have this mausoleum in flames in ten minutes, and then see if he couldn't beat the kid home.

* * *

He didn't beat Nero home. In fact, Nero was already settled on the couch under a blanket with his back to the room by the time Dante walked through the door. No point in asking the kid if he wanted any more petting, then; merely talking to him would probably aggravate him, so Dante didn't try. He just locked the front doors and said, "Goodnight, kid," and went upstairs.

The next morning Nero was back to his usual self. "Hey," he said, when Dante came downstairs, but he didn't look up from his book.

There was some cash on the desk. Dante paused to flip through it before heading to the bathroom, and was stopped cold. "What the hell, kid," he said, flabbergasted. "This is like ten grand."

"I told you last night, that thing was huge."

Dante just stared at Nero until he looked up, and then the kid frowned.

"You're just a shitty negotiator," said Nero. "That doesn't mean everybody is." There was more, and Dante waited for it, until Nero sat up and threw his book down onto the coffee table. "They could afford it! I'm not taking anybody's life savings!"

"Was this a mafia job?" Dante asked.

"No!" Then Nero huffed, and said, "I don't know. Maybe. Look, does it matter? It was a demon that was killing people. People who had money, that they could afford to pay, so that they wouldn't be killed."

"What did I tell you about the mafia?" said Dante.

"I can't come running to you every time there _might_ be mafia involved."

"Yes," said Dante. "You can. _I_ am the one who deals with the mob. Not you."

Nero grabbed his book back off the table and threw himself sideways on the couch, not looking at Dante now. "It's not like they can hurt me," he said.

"That's not the point. _Nothing_ you do with the mafia is neutral, kid. It all means something. Everything you do with them earns you enemies, from some quarter."

"Who cares? _They can't hurt me!"_

Breathe, Dante told himself. He counted to ten, and said, calmly, "Hit men don't always use bullets, Nero. Sometimes they use car bombs, or the other kind of bombs. Those will, in fact, hurt you. And more importantly, they will hurt the people around you."

Nero said nothing, but his angry, closed-down expression said that he wasn't really listening, so there was no point in Dante saying anything further. He went into the bathroom to take a shower, and Nero left the building before he got back out. _Great._

Once he was cleaned up, Dante called to order a pizza and then counted out the cash Nero had left on the desk. It was more than ten thousand, almost twelve. "Holy hell," said Dante. He had to find out which subsection of the mob Nero had worked for last night, and figure out if there was going to be any fallout from this.

First he tried to call Morrison to get whatever details Nero had been given the night before, but it rang to voicemail. "You need to tell me what you told Nero last night," Dante told Morrison's voicemail. "And then you need to explain to me why you let him take a mob assignment." He slammed down the receiver, full of aggravation and with no target for it.

This _was_ a lot of money, though. Given that there'd been only one demon, even for a mafia job this was a lot. Nero really was a much better negotiator than Dante, and even when Dante watched the kid do it, he still couldn't replicate it. The entire method just seemed to be a lot of insisting on a particular fee until he got it. That had never worked for Dante, any time he'd tried it, and he had no idea how it worked for Nero.

He kept a hundred bucks out of the stack for pocket change, and put the rest of it in the safe behind the bar. When the pizza arrived, Dante paid for it out of that money, and wished Nero would come home. He felt kind of bad now.

Morrison called about an hour later. He claimed to have not known anything at all about Nero's job being mafia-related, and he gave Dante the name, number and address for what he'd believed to be a wealthy, not-mafia-at-all lady in the secluded suburbs. It wasn't a name or a location Dante recognized as attached to any of the divisions of the mob he knew, which put this into the _here be dragons_ part of the socio-criminal map. Anything was possible.

"Find out, would you?" said Dante to Morrison. "I need to know who the kid has crossed, like, now."

"Dante," said Morrison, "you know that if I'd known, I wouldn't have passed it to him."

"Well, maybe you should vet these things a little better. We're _devil hunters,_ and knowing the ins and outs of organized crime is not actually part of that job description."

Dante was angry again after hanging up with Morrison, but not at Nero anymore. Had _he_ seen this yesterday, before Nero had run out with it alone, he would have made no move to take it away from the kid and that made it an error that nobody could have prevented. Yes, Nero should have come back with it once he found out what was going on, but that would have required him to take a serious ego hit, and that was really asking too much.

"Okay, kid," Dante told the empty office. "You can come back now. Any time now." Some day he was going to get smart about things and start confiscating Nero's car keys.

It was dark before Nero finally wandered back in, and he seemed to have spent his rage somewhere because there was none in evidence now. "Any pizza left?" he asked, spotting the box.

"Yeah." Dante picked up the box and frisbeed it, and the two slices it contained, to Nero. "Look, um ..."

Nero caught the box and interrupted. "I thought you'd be happy, Dante. You're always broke. Now suddenly you're not. I really kind of expected you to be happy, and not go off on me."

Shit. Everything Dante had planned to say was completely derailed by that, by Nero's defeated tone and unexpected confession. All that was left to Dante was, "Look ... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you were right," said Nero, to Dante's complete astonishment. "I mean, I didn't know going in, but it was kind of obvious the mob was involved when their lowball offer was two grand."

 _What._ "... you talked the _mafia_ up from two grand to _twelve?"_

Nero, biting down into a slice of pizza, paused and looked up. "The thing had eaten four guys already," he said after swallowing. "I figured, three thousand per guy? That's fair, right? I told them if it sounded like too much, I'd leave and come back after it had eaten a couple more and then the fee would be twenty thousand." He took another bite, and mumbled around it, "The fucker bit me like five times while I was putting it down, and it hurt. I think I earned it."

Dante wasn't sure if this was disastrous, or marvelous. But Nero still looked a little miserable, eating his cold pizza, and Dante didn't like that.

"I am happy about the money," he said. "It's a lot of money."

"Yeah," said Nero.

"Thank you."

"... yeah," said Nero again. "It's fine."

It wasn't, but Dante couldn't figure out what else to say, so he didn't say anything more.

* * *

Morrison stopped by the next afternoon. "They're part of the east side Italian mafia," he said, laying a printed page on Dante's desk. "They've been having some trouble recently with the Mexican mob. If anyone is going to be ticked at Nero for rescuing the east side Italians, it would be these fellows."

Nero came over to look at the page, scanning down it with interest. "So what's that mean?" he asked.

"It means there's probably no problem," said Dante. "We lucked out."

"I'd say we did," said Morrison. "I'll be more careful next time."

Dante aimed a finger at him. "See to it that you are."

After Morrison left, Dante read over the information. East side Italians, not to be confused with the _south_ side Italians - and there Dante found some of the names he recognized - or the Russians who were mainly in the central business district - and there were more recognizable names - or the Sicilians, which Dante could not distinguish from Italian for love or money so he had to just take it on faith that there was an important difference.

"This is too much for me," he said, and put it down again. "But maybe you ought to look it over, kid, and realize why tangling with organized crime is never done lightly."

"It's not like I was screwing with them," said Nero. "I was helping them out."

"Yeah, and maybe some enemy of theirs was happy that there was a kitty cat eating their people, and now they're ticked at you because you put a stop to that."

Nero picked up the sheet of paper and sat down on the edge of Dante's desk with it. "This is confusing," he said after a minute.

"And it'll be out of date tomorrow. Just ... let me handle the mob from now on. That's all I ask."

"Yeah. Okay."

Now that that was settled, Dante pulled out a magazine and wondered what to do next. Just sitting around waiting for business to drop by had worked for most of his life, but Nero's presence in the office, and the sexual relationship they'd developed, had changed things. In this, the first quiet moment with Nero nearby in a couple of days, the memory of how Nero's mouth tasted and how his body felt were already intruding into Dante's mind. The kid seemed relaxed and in a decent mood, so there was no legitimate reason to instigate anything, but the bare knowledge of that did nothing to quell the lust.

This was a knife edge that Dante could balance for a while longer. Eventually he'd have to either run Nero off or fuck him; he couldn't handle this tension indefinitely. But he could handle it for now. There was no reason to give in to the desire to drag Nero down and throw him across the desk _just now._

He pulled his mind away from that by thinking about all that cash. Really, it was Nero's money, and Dante thought that the kid had the right to enjoy it before bills inevitably ate it.

"You still don't want to move out?" Dante asked.

Nero looked over from the mafia flow chart. "Is this a subtle hint that you're done with me?"

"No." Dante turned a page. "As long as you're fine with the couch, you're welcome here."

"I'm still fine with the couch."

"Then I thought, maybe, since we're rich now, we might get something other than pizza for dinner."

It took a moment of silence for Dante to realize that Nero was staring at him. "I didn't want to say that," he said, "if you were planning to use that money to get your own place."

"Something _other than pizza?"_ said Nero. He reached out and put his left hand on Dante's forehead. "Are you okay? Should I call a doctor?" Then he clapped his hand over his mouth. "What are you, and what have you done with Dante?"

"Hah," said Dante, but it kind of did make him smile. "Where do you want to go?"

Then Nero smiled, too, and that was great to see. "Dante," he said. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Was he? That hadn't been his intention, but ... "Yeah. I am."

"Well, shit," said Nero. He put a hand behind him and leaned back, and _damn_ was it difficult to just look at him and not touch. "Nobody's ever asked me out before. What do people normally say?"

"Normally? Either, yes, I'd love that, or no, I'd rather shove my head into a woodchipper."

"I definitely don't want my head in a woodchipper, so I guess I have to say yes."

That was easy. Dante wished everything could be that easy. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"What's available? This is your town, not mine."

Dante started to think about it, and while he was doing that the front door opened. Usually walk-ins were one of his friends, or occasionally some confused member of the public in search of a tavern or a public restroom. This time it was a man he'd never seen before, but who didn't look lost.

"Wow," said the guy, eyes immediately on the weapons behind Dante's head. Then he glanced toward the bar, and the devil head Dante had impaled on the wall there. "That is for real, ain't it?"

"Hi, Raymond," said Nero. "Dad says we're not allowed to be friends anymore."

 _Oh, shit._ "No," said Dante, standing up, all hint of arousal instantly killed. "No, no, no, no, you are not bringing your mob shit in here."

The fellow held his hand dramatically over his heart. _"Perish_ the thought, Mr. ... Dante, is it?"

"It's just Dante," said Nero.

"No," said Dante. He pointed toward the door. "Out."

Raymond pulled a slim envelope out of his jacket. "I'll be gone before you know it, but Mrs. Polizzi asked me to bring this to you, and I know you wouldn't want me to disappoint her."

Whatever it was, Dante knew he didn't want it. "Okay, you brought it, now take it with you and get out."

The dude actually chuckled, and laid the envelope down on the desk. "Mrs. Polizzi sends her regards." Then he backed toward the door, and pointed at the demon head. "You guys are really devil hunters. Man. That's gotta be something."

Once Raymond was gone, Nero reached for the envelope, and Dante slammed his hand down onto it. "No," said Dante.

"Come on. We don't even know what's in it."

"It's something related to the mafia," said Dante. "That's all we need to know." He picked up the envelope by its edge and took it to the trash can to throw it away.

Nero gave him a little head-shaking sigh, and went to the trash can himself to pull it back out. "Dante, it might be money. Do you want to throw away money?"

"If it comes with strings, yeah, maybe I do."

Slicing the envelope open with one claw, Nero pulled out a folded piece of paper, which contained a smaller slip that looked like a check. "To the gentlemen of Devil May Cry," he read, "please accept our deepest thanks, hmmm, hmmm, invited to join us for dinner on Friday, the twentieth ..." He stopped, read the paper again, and then said, "Wow. She wants us to stop by for dinner on Friday."

This was the worst. The absolute worst. "How much money is it?" Dante asked.

Nero turned the check around and said, "Twenty thousand dollars." He held it up so Dante could see. "Aren't you glad we opened it?"

"Yes," said Dante. "Because now we can put it into a new envelope and mail it back to her with our sincerest regrets."

"You're not serious." But Dante was serious, and Nero handed over the check with an annoyed frown. "She's a nice lady, Dante. You'd like her."

"I'm sure I would." Dante rummaged through his desk, looking for an envelope. "But even nice mobster ladies don't get to keep me on retainer. Especially ones that pay by check."

Nero read over the paper again, and said, "What's that mean? This doesn't say anything like that. It's just an invitation to dinner."

"A retainer is when they pay you something up front, and then expect you to jump every time they whistle." In the back of the bottom drawer Dante found his envelopes, and he pulled one out and made it out to the address Morrison had given him the day before. "We've already been compensated for the devil you killed for her. Anything more is too stringy for me."

He took the invitation and wrote a note at the bottom, _Thank you, but we won't be able to make it, Love, Dante,_ with a little drawn heart, and put that into the envelope along with the check. "I'm going to go get this in the mail today," he said, and then licked a stamp.

It wasn't his intention for Nero to come with him - no point - but the kid turned down his coat sleeve and put on his gun holster like he was planning to come along. Well, Dante wasn't going to say no and tick the kid off for no reason. He could handle the arousal a while longer.

It was cool and windy, and Dante thought it might rain later, but it wasn't very far to the post office and the walk took them down the main drag of this side of town. There were people out and about, shopping and eating, and taking care of their ordinary human business, and Dante liked walking amongst them this way. The sounds they made were happy ones, for the most part; humans were often content just to be alive and able to enjoy the day. It made Dante remember why he liked them, why he wanted to be like them. There was no violence in the majority of humans. They were able to live at peace, and most of them preferred that.

It put Dante into a good mood, one that complemented the desire he had to put his hand on the back of Nero's neck and pull the kid into a long kiss.

After a few minutes, Nero said, "I don't really see what I did wrong here."

"What you did wrong was not coming home when you found out who the job was for," said Dante. "But I can kind of understand why you didn't."

"I didn't because I didn't need help," said Nero. "You know, I never actually _need_ your help."

"It's not about you needing help."

"I know, but that's what it would have _looked_ like."

"I understand why you didn't do it, kid," said Dante.

Nero huffed, and then said, "I didn't do anything while I was there. I treated it like a normal job."

Maybe this was something that warranted an explanation. "Yeah, see," said Dante. "If you're going to do jobs for the mafia, you _can't_ treat it like a normal job. You have to make it clear up front that it's a one-time deal. It doesn't hurt to threaten to never come back if they don't seem to get it."

They reached the post office, and Dante dropped the letter into the mail slot and immediately left, because the post office did not take kindly to even unloaded handguns on the premises. He honestly doubted this was going to be the end of the matter, but there was no use worrying about the future until it arrived.

Anyway, it was nice enough weather despite the cold, and the humans seemed to think that was enough reason to be pleased. Nero was brooding or something again, and Dante wondered if the kid had the same kind of relationship with humanity that Dante did himself. How human _was_ Nero, anyway?

"So," said Dante, and he gave a little wave that took in the world ahead of them. "What do you get from humans?"

"... what do you mean?"

"What kind of sense do you get from them?"

Nero looked around, and said, "I don't get what you're asking."

"What impression do they give you?"

"... none? They're human, not demons."

Interesting. "I see," said Dante.

"I don't understand the question," said Nero. "What impression do they give _you?"_

Dante thought about it a bit, to put it into words. "Humans have very strong souls," he said. "They can make their own fates. They aren't enslaved to their instincts the way devils are. I think that may be what draws devils to them. It's what draws _me_ to them."

Nero shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Well, if the kid didn't get it, he didn't get it. Dante thought that it was possible that Nero just thought the draw of humanity was so normal it didn't register, since he'd been raised around humans exclusively, but there was no way to know. Maybe he really _didn't_ get anything out of it. "I have to be very close to one to _feel_ the humanity in them, but even just looking at them ... They look so happy. I like that."

"You know," said Nero, "I still think of myself as human."

That wasn't unexpected, but Dante hadn't expected his own, disappointed reaction to it. He said nothing, because there was nothing to say, but it actually kind of hurt a little.

It made him want to test something, though, so when they returned to the office Dante went into the back room to get one of the devil arms he kept there. "Hey, kid," he said, coming back out front with Nevan. "Check this out."

Nero set his book back down, and said, "What is it?"

"You tell me."

"I didn't know there'd be a quiz." Nero took the weapon, and said, "It's a guitar. With no strings." He nevertheless put it against his hip and arranged his left hand on the fretboard, and didn't look even slightly surprised when electric strings materialized under them. "This is one of your devil arms, isn't it?"

Dante didn't provide an answer, and Nero didn't wait for one. He strummed the weapon with his claws, and then played a fast riff that filled the air around him with shadowy bats; he stopped before completing it, and the dark shapes evaporated.

"I ... have no idea how that happened," he said, and he gave Dante a somewhat alarmed look. "I don't even know how to play guitar."

"That sounded pretty good to me," said Dante. "If you want to mess around with it and don't want to break anything, you can take it outside."

"No." Nero tried to hand the guitar back. "It's not mine." When Dante didn't take it, he said, "This isn't mine."

"It could be," said Dante. "I almost never use it."

The kid continued to hold it out. "My devil bringer eats these things," he said. "You don't want to give it to me."

"If it belongs to you, it doesn't matter what you do with it."

"I already have weapons," said Nero, but this protest wasn't made as strongly as it might have been. He wanted Nevan. Dante could see it in the way he pulled the guitar in a bit, no longer extending it for Dante to take. "I don't need another one."

Dante did not take it back, and rather than set it down and walk away Nero again settled the guitar against him, glowing claws poised above the demonic strings. "I don't even know how to play," he said again.

"Take it outside," said Dante. "You'll figure it out."

The kid hesitated, but then the temptation to accept the gift apparently became too strong because he walked out the door without another word. Dante followed him, but stayed in the doorway as Nero moved into the street and again ran his claws over the weapon's strings. The experimental strum turned almost immediately into another riff, and within seconds Nero was completely engrossed in the music. He played the way Dante had always played Nevan: by intuition and improvisation, fingers running up and down the frets as though he'd been born with the thing in his hand.

Some of the riffs deployed Nevan's electrified bats, and Nero took this in perfect stride. Dante recalled how he'd felt when playing Nevan for the first time; the mechanism of the weapon had felt completely natural and normal, the appearance of the bats somehow expected. Nero's expression betrayed no alarm any longer, just pleasure as he played, and it was easy for Dante to think that the kid was having the same kind of experience now.

Finally Nero wrapped it up, and he looked up at Dante standing at the top of the steps. "This is great," he said, with a kind of glowing little smile that Dante would have kissed had he been closer. "I don't even know how to play, but it's like I do."

"Devil arms have that effect," said Dante. _On devils._ He didn't add that, but he liked that it had that effect on Nero.

"Are you sure you want to give this to me?"

Dante waved his hand. "Its name is Nevan. It's yours now. It's a good weapon, and it deserves to be with someone who will use it."

Nero passed the guitar from his left hand to his right, and after a few seconds it flashed and vanished. He flexed his claws a few times, and then smiled again like he was actually happy.

It was damned, damned hard for Dante to stay at the top the steps, and not walk down there and sweep the kid into his arms. Only the knowledge that Nero would flip if he tried it kept him in place.

* * *

They decided to have steak for dinner, because Nero was indifferent to most of Dante's suggestions but he seemed interested when Dante mentioned steak. "It's expensive," said Nero, but they _did_ have literally thousands of dollars right now.

It was a weeknight, so there was no crowd. "So am I taking you out," said Dante once they were seated, "or are you taking me out?"

"You asked me."

"But we're spending your money."

"Pfft. It's _our_ money."

That was unexpected. Dante threw his elbows over the back of the bench seat and said, "I didn't know you felt that way."

"You've been supporting me since I got here," said Nero. "I haven't forgotten that."

The waiter stopped by then to drop off menus and ask what they wanted to drink, and he visibly startled when his eyes happened across Nero's glowing hand. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Nero immediately put his hand under the table, but Dante said, "He's a devil. So am I. Don't worry, we're the nice kind."

"... are you serious?" asked the waiter, as Nero gave Dante an angry glare. Dante just grinned, and after a confused moment the waiter seemed to accept that and left to put in their drink orders.

"That wasn't helpful," said Nero, once the waiter was gone.

"This town has a much different relationship with demons than Fortuna," said Dante. "Someday you're going to believe me."

"I already believe you. That doesn't mean I want to _advertise_ it."

The kid's annoyance was familiar, but Dante regretted provoking it; he liked it when Nero was in a good mood, and Nero had been in a good mood, off and on, for an all-but-unprecedented multiple days. "I'd like it," said Dante, "if you'd stop being self-conscious about your arm. I can't make you stop worrying about it. I can just show you that people around here simply don't care."

"That guy sure looked like he cared," said Nero, with a frown.

This was an old conversation, and not one Dante cared to rehash just now. He changed the subject. "What are we going to do the next time you're out somewhere and you realize that the mob is paying your fee?"

"I'm _not_ going to come running to you," said Nero. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, that was kind of unrealistic."

The kid didn't reply, and when Dante looked Nero was staring at him. "What?" he said.

"I figured you'd argue with me," said Nero.

"Why? You're an adult."

Nero's jaw actually dropped. "You _noticed!"_ he said.

"I don't sleep with children, kid."

"There." Nero pointed at Dante across the table. "You keep calling me that. Why do you do that? I'm almost _twenty three!"_

"Yeah," said Dante, amused now. "You're a kid, half my age."

The waiter returned with their drinks and a basket of rolls, ready to take their dinner orders, and he said absolutely nothing about Nero's arm or about what Dante had told him. Dante asked for the biggest steak on the menu, as rare as they would give it to him, while Nero was more conservative and asked for his medium-well.

"What?" said Dante, once the waiter had left again. "You don't like raw meat? What kind of devil are you?"

"The kind that likes cooked food." Nero fiddled a little with his knife, and then broke apart one of the rolls and buttered it. "You're only twice my age?"

Dante laughed. "Are you saying I look old?"

"No, I just thought ... I figured you were ancient. Like Sparda. Hundreds of years old."

"Damn," said Dante. "And here I thought I was aging gracefully." If Nero ever decided to take a woman out to dinner, Dante was going to have to set him straight on this kind of topic.

"I didn't think you were aging at all." Nero took a bite of his roll, and then said, "I didn't think demons aged."

"I may have mentioned this once," said Dante. "My mom was human."

"Yeah, I know. I just ..." The kid broke off and tried again. "You're so, so _devilish._ I guess I forget sometimes that you're half-human."

Dante was never in any danger of forgetting, and it was strange that Nero apparently was. He didn't feel particularly devilish on a day-to-day basis, but maybe it was different from Nero's perspective. Dante, after all, was constantly aware of Nero as a demon. "I'm not hundreds of years old," he said. "And I have no idea if I have a fixed life expectancy, the way humans do. This is just as new to me as it is to you."

Nero thought about that while he ate the roll, and then reached for another. "You know," he said eventually, "if you colored your hair, you might not look like such a geezer."

"I've thought about that," said Dante. "I was thinking, bright red, to match my coat."

"No, no," said Nero. "Green, for contrast. Maybe grass-green, or pea-green."

Dante laughed. "You think my hair would look good if I colored it like baby food, is that what you're saying?"

"Dante, on you, anything would be an improvement."

"How about we do that tomorrow? You can color my hair, and I'll color yours, and then we can rent a trashy movie and paint each other's toenails."

Nero covered his mouth, awkwardly coughing, but when he finally swallowed and looked up he was smiling. "I hate you _so much!"_

"I know," said Dante, but it was worth it to see Nero smile that way.

* * *

When they got home, Dante sat at his desk with a magazine and Nero tucked himself onto the couch with a book, and by an hour later it was almost impossible for Dante to stay in his chair. Provoking the kid was out of the question - Nero was in a good mood again and Dante didn't want to spoil it - but he was _right there,_ and the desire to go over there and just assault him was starting to become almost overpowering. Nero would comply. He might fight back at first, but in the end he'd lay down for Dante, and he'd kiss back, and his body would respond ...

That didn't mean the kid _wanted_ it. Dante had to remember that. Nero would _submit,_ but that wasn't the same as wanting the older hunter's hands on him.

The tipping point hadn't come yet. It might not come for a while. Dante could tolerate it some time longer. He turned the pages on his magazine to pretend he was reading it, and fought down the arousal.

The phone rang at about ten, and Dante answered it. "Devil May Cry."

"Hey, there." It was Lady. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Depends. What would you prefer me to do tonight?"

"If you're not busy, I can make you busy."

Nero was looking up from his book with interest, but Dante waved him off. "Is this a bring-my-sword kind of busy?" Dante asked Lady. "Or a bottle of wine kind of busy?" He hoped she would pick the wine. The timing of this call was perfect. He was so turned on, from Nero and from anticipation.

She laughed. "You don't even have any wine."

"I can buy some on my way over."

"Sure. Bring some wine. Fifteen minutes?"

"No problem."

Dante hung up the phone and picked up his guns, and said, "Hold down the fort. I may or may not be back tonight."

"Where are you going?" asked Nero.

"Out," said Dante, but then he decided that since Nero had heard that conversation, he might as well be forthright. "That was Lady. I'll be at her place."

It was raining so he took his car, and he stopped by a liquor store along the way; he knew almost nothing about wine, so he bought a bottle of white wine the clerk recommended. When he got to Lady's place she met him at the door and took the bottle, and immediately set it aside so that she could put one hand into his hair and pull him down for a deep kiss. With the other, she took one of his hands and stripped off the glove, then pressed his fingers up under her skirt and between her legs. She was wearing nothing under them. Dante groaned into her mouth, and slid his middle finger into the wet warmth as he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her hard against him.

She gasped softly, and then whispered against his lips, "Bedroom." Dante put his hands under her thighs to lift her up and carry her there.

Lady wanted little by way of foreplay except to get their clothes off, and Dante was turned on enough to be fine with that. He shucked his jacket and shirt, and then helped her out of her own shirt and skirt so he could mouth one of her nipples as he unbuckled his pants. She was so beautiful, and she wanted him so much, and he was so _hard._

Lady took his erection in hand the moment his pants were off, and it felt so _good_ when she gave him a firm stroke. "How do you want this?" Dante whispered against her breast as she pulled a condom over the head of his cock. He ran his hand down his erection to unroll it into place.

"Slow. Be gentle."

That was surprising after how fast she'd wanted to move to intercourse, but Dante gave her what she wanted. He kissed her, told her how beautiful she was, and once he was inside her he let the way she rocked her hips set the pace for him. It was slow, and Dante was gentle, and she wouldn't let him move his lips away from hers, not even when they came with a gasping cries.

Afterward she held onto him, and Dante had to know. "What happened?" he asked.

She nuzzled his shoulder. "Same old shit," she said. "Different day."

"No, really. What happened?"

It took her a while to give an answer, and when she did it wasn't one. "Demons. You know." Then she raised herself onto her elbow so she could look him in the face. "Dante. Do you ever think about having kids?"

"... no," he said, wary now. "Where'd _that_ come from?"

"I've been thinking about it," said Lady.

Dante knew already where this was going, and his first instinct was _no._ "I don't want kids," he said.

"I've been thinking about it," she said again, and she lay back down with her head against his neck. "I need to have them soon, if I want any. For a while, I just thought, it's too dangerous. I can't go through a pregnancy, and I can't bring any child into a world like this. I can't give anyone who wants to get to me a way to do it."

"Those are good thoughts," said Dante. "Keep thinking those."

"I don't know anymore. It just seems like all I ever contribute to this world is death. Maybe ... I don't know." She ran a hand over his chest. "Maybe I want to contribute life, at least once."

"You keep people alive," said Dante.

"That's not the same," she said, and Dante had to admit that it wasn't quite the same.

He rolled onto his side to face her. "I don't want kids," he said.

"Just think about it. That's all I ask."

"... okay. Why me?"

She laughed. "Why _not_ you? Look at you!"

"Well, yeah," he conceded. "I _am_ pretty hot."

That only made her laugh harder. "No, stupid," she said. "Not look at how you _look._ Look at how easy it is for you to take care of yourself. Any kid of yours would have to be pretty self-sufficient."

Well, shit. She had a point with that. "I don't know," he said. "Let me think about it."

She gave him a kiss. "That's all I want. When you decide, let me know. I'll have to get off the pill if you want to do it."

"Yeah," he said, not at all sure how he felt about this.

He got up and went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom, and when he came back out Lady had brought the wine into the bedroom and was driving a corkscrew into the cork. There were two mismatched drinking glasses on the nightstand, and once Lady had the cork out of the bottle she filled them halfway, and handed the bigger of the two to Dante.

"Don't feel like I'm pressuring you," she said.

"I don't." He leaned over to kiss her, and then took a sip of the wine. It tasted strange at first, almost sour, but then a smoky flavor bloomed through it. It was nice, and he took a second sip.

Lady tasted it, and her expression crinkled. "This is really good," she said. "I'm surprised at you. You bought _good wine."_

"I have my talents," said Dante. "In this case, the talent is asking a woman who knows what she's talking about and going with what she suggests."

Lady laughed a little, and leaned against him. She was still naked, and so was he, and it felt comfortable to have her resting against him. Dante put his arm around her to hold her close.

"Going to stay the night?" she asked.

"If you want me to."

"I'd like it, if you don't mind."

Dante kissed the top of her head. "I don't mind."

* * *

Nero wasn't in when Dante got home the next morning, which was fine because Dante was in a mood. He changed clothes and put on some slow music, and settled at his desk with a magazine in his hand but he didn't bother to even look at it.

Damn Lady. Why had she said that? And why couldn't Dante just tell her he'd thought about it and the answer was still no?

After a while he got up and racked the balls on the pool table, and, to give himself a challenge, tried to sink every one of them on the break. He only sank six balls his first try, which was alarming; it made him realize he was really bothered by this.

He was still at it when Nero wandered in, just after noon. "Where you been?" asked Dante.

"Out," said Nero. He took off his gun and set it on the coffee table, but didn't have his sword on him.

That was fine. Dante didn't inquire further. He put the cue ball down on the table and lined up a shot. "I was about to order some pizza. You want anything?"

"No. Do whatever you want."

Ten balls dropped this time. Still not good enough. Dante walked around the table, pulling the balls out of the pockets so he could rack them again. This was intolerable. His mind was just somewhere else today.

Nero all but threw himself onto the couch, and when Dante glanced that way he saw the kid was reading a book but his eyebrows were angrily furrowed. So, the good mood was over. That was disappointing, but Dante had to admit that he hadn't expected it to last as long as it had.

The remainder of the day passed quietly. Dante eventually gave up on the pool table, ate his pizza, and then settled down for what would have been a nap if Nero hadn't been there. It was impossible to drop off to sleep with Nero so nearby, but Dante did his best and was able to go into a kind of half-doze, conscious of the kid's presence but able to filter out the sounds he made. Vividly, a dreamlike memory of the encounter in the cemetery played out for him, the way Nero had fought him, the way he'd inhaled the kid's scent through that scruffy coat, and it evolved into an equally dreamlike fantasy of crossing the room and having his way with Nero right now.

Some time later Dante was roused when Nero stirred himself, and opened his eyes to see the kid standing in a patch of deeply slanted light and tucking his gun under his coat.

"Going somewhere?" asked Dante.

"Away from here." Nero seemed to hesitate over his sword, and turned away from the case without opening it. He picked up the two library books on the coffee table, so he'd presumably be returning them and possibly checking out new ones, but Dante doubted that was the primary purpose of this sudden exit.

Dante had slept with Lady the day before, but as far as he knew Nero had no such outlet. Probably the kid was getting antsy. Dante thought he ought to do something about that when Nero got back.

But that reminded him of what Lady had said, and that put Dante back into that strange mood from earlier in the day. He gave Nero a wave as the kid walked out (which Nero did not return, or maybe even see), and then fell back into unpleasant brooding.

To say no was, of course, to maintain the status quo. To say yes ... Dante couldn't really conceptualize the upheaval. Even if Lady asked for nothing from him by way of parenting or support, Dante wouldn't be able to just walk away from his own child. He'd have to babysit when it became necessary, and hell ... maybe also because he'd want to. He didn't know anything much about children, and couldn't say he _disliked_ them. Maybe he'd really like having one of his own.

There was always the danger of any child of his and Lady's being turned into some kind of target, although Dante thought that he'd be a bigger threat in that respect than Lady. He had enemies. Was that enough to say no? Was his ambivalence enough to say no? Was his ambivalence enough to say _yes?_

What would Lady would do if he did stick by his no? Would she forget about this biological clock business, or would she just approach some second-string potential father? Dante kind of suspected the latter, and he wasn't sure how he'd feel about Lady having a baby that wasn't his.

Nero didn't come back at all that evening, so when it became late enough Dante just went upstairs to sleep. The kid had a key and didn't need anybody to let him in. It took some time for Dante to get to sleep, because his mind was in a roil, but eventually he did.

He woke in the dark of the early morning, to the knowledge that Nero had returned home. There may have been a sound to alert him, or it may have just been the sudden _devil, not far away_ feeling that roused him from sleep; regardless, Dante was now acutely aware that the kid was downstairs.

Under normal circumstances, the upstairs bedroom and the couch downstairs were far enough apart to permit both devils to sleep without a problem, but for whatever reason that was not true tonight. Once Dante was awake, he could not get back to sleep, and the only thing he could think about was Nero. About kissing him, touching him, throwing him over the desk and fucking him. About the smell of his skin, and about the sounds he made. Dante slowly rubbed his erection and thought about getting himself off, but that wasn't what he wanted.

Eventually the sense he had of Nero's proximity grew stronger, and, faintly, he heard a creak on the stairs. _Damn._ Dante wasn't sure if he was pleased or displeased by this development; all he could say for sure was that he could not refuse it. He rolled out of bed and, wary of attack, opened the door.

Nero had no weapons. He just shoved Dante against the wall next to the door, claws in the older hunter's hair and lips on his in an urgent kiss. Dante reacted without any thought, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss and running his hands up the kid's warm back to pull him close. Nero made a soft sound and crushed his body against Dante's, and _damn_ but the kid was already hard, his erection digging into Dante's groin right beside his own. Dante slid one hand down the back of Nero's pants and beneath his underwear, and Nero broke the kiss to groan in Dante's ear.

"I want you," the kid whispered. "Right now. Inside me." He laid his left hand against Dante's flank, and Dante could feel that he'd brought something upstairs with him.

Nero's eagerness destroyed any reservations Dante might have had left. He carried the kid six steps to the bed and dropped him onto it sideways, and Nero stripped off his own clothes and Dante's before pulling Dante down into another kiss. The kid made it effortless for Dante to lose himself, submitting without resistance to Dante's hands and mouth and _moaning_ when the older hunter snarled and bit him.

There was no power coursing through Nero this time to drive Dante out of his head, though, and the kid's immediate acquiescence eased the edge of violence. After a second hard bite that Nero took without complaint, Dante threw his head back and panted to catch his breath and clear his mind a little. Nero laid fervent kisses on his throat and collarbone as Dante breathed, and a moment later the prick of claws on the back of his shoulder were matched by a tight grip around his cock.

"Damn." This was not helping Dante get his wits together, the paired pleasure and pain that Nero could inflict; between that and the mere fact that Nero was a powerful demon, it was, for a moment, almost overwhelming.

"I want you," Nero whispered against Dante's throat. "You know you want me." He gave Dante's erection a stroke, and Dante couldn't stop his hips from slamming forward into it.

"Yes," said Dante, because it was all he could produce, just agreement, with the kid's hand on him that way. _Yes._ Yes, he wanted Nero. "I want you."

"I'm right here." More kisses against Dante's throat, and another stroke of his cock, and he lowered his head to groan in the kid's hair, and _damn_ there was a faint smell of Nero's blood in his hair that made Dante just come completely unwound.

Dante would have fucked the kid's hand after that, but Nero pushed him back and got a condom and lubricant on him while he breathed in the scent of Nero's hair and blood, and tried to get control of himself. Then Nero gave Dante's shoulder a kiss, and at the same time raked his claws straight down Dante's back. The sudden and unexpected pain shot straight through Dante, ripping away all pretense at control, and when he snarled and bit down it was onto the back of Nero's shoulder because the kid had quickly rolled over onto his belly.

"Do it," said Nero, and his voice was strained. "I'm right here." Dante tried to thrust into him, but it went wrong, skating up the kid's back, and Nero raised his hips and reached back to guide Dante's cock so that the second attempt went better. The claw marks on his back burned, and the faint smell of Nero's blood was now drowned out by the smell of Dante's own, and the pain and the pleasure of the kid's body seared together to light down Dante's spine. He drove into Nero, nipping the side of the kid's neck with his breath coming hard and loud through his nose and mouth, and Nero had his head tilted back against Dante's shoulder.

It was _so damned good._ Nero was so compliant, and even the slashes down Dante's back felt amazing, and there was nothing Dante would have liked more than to just do this forever. Nero pried one of Dante's hands up off the bed and put it over his own mouth so he could suck on Dante's fingers; Dante jammed his middle and ring fingers between the kid's lips, and Nero's tongue was just all over them.

When Dante came, it was slowly, easing up on orgasm like topping a rolling hill. Only when it was over did he become aware that he'd tightened his hold on Nero's face, pulling the kid's head farther back against his shoulder, and that Nero was straining beneath him. This was annoying for about a minute, until the haze faded and Dante realized what was going on.

He rolled over onto his side, dragging Nero with him, and put his hand over the one Nero had on his own erection to help the kid get himself off. Warm talons closed over Dante's hand, and heaven help him, if Dante hadn't _just_ come the kid writhing and panting against him this way would have had him hard in an instant. He kissed Nero's ear, and whispered, "You're so hot," and Nero came over his hand.

They lay together quietly for a time, until Nero squirmed around to face Dante and began to gently kiss him. They were soft and tender kisses, and Dante closed the kid in a tight embrace. Had this put Nero back into a good mood? It seemed that way, and Dante hoped it had.

The pain in his back was gone, but Dante knew he'd bled all over the place and it had certainly gotten onto his bed, not to mention Nero coming messily onto the mattress. As comfortable as he was, and as pleasant as it was to have Nero in his arms and kissing him this way, Dante started to feel kind of gross.

He kissed Nero's forehead, and said, "I need to get up."

"Just a little longer," said Nero, and he nipped Dante's jaw. "I want to be close to you."

This was a _very_ good mood indeed, and Dante wasn't ready to spoil it, no matter how itchy the drying blood became. This was the most affectionate Dante had ever seen Nero after sex without crashing his trigger, and he was willing to remain a while to encourage it. Eventually the kisses stopped, and, resting his clawed right hand carefully on Dante's hip, Nero tucked his face against the side of Dante's neck.

"I wish we could sleep this way," Nero murmured.

"I'd never manage it," said Dante softly. "I doubt you would, either."

"We've never tried."

That was true, and it was true for a reason. Dante hesitated before saying more, because he wasn't sure how Nero would react, but it was late at night and the room was dark, lit only by the glow of Nero's hand, and that made confessions easier. "I think ... I might wind up hurting you," he said. "If we tried that. Sometimes I think about it. With you downstairs, at least you'd have some warning and time to wake up."

Nero pulled away and pushed himself up onto one elbow, and his eyebrows were furrowed as he looked down at Dante. His eyes were black in the dim blue light. "What are you talking about?"

"You're a devil," said Dante. "And when you're asleep, you're defenseless."

"I've been asleep around you before. Hell, after that night in the cemetery last week, I was passed out cold."

Again, Dante took a moment to weigh his words. "It's ... different, right after we've had sex. I don't know how it is for you. I don't know if I can explain it." Or, rather, how he could explain it without spoiling Nero's mood, or angering the kid. Dante opted for vagueness. "I'm quiet, inside, afterwards. Like right now. That's not usually the case."

Nero offered no response for a time, but he laid his head back down against Dante's shoulder while he thought it over, and when he did speak again he changed the subject. "Maybe it is time to get up," he said.

Since Dante had blood all over him, he went to take a shower first, and by the time he got back upstairs Nero had put his pants back on and had already changed the bedsheets. "You didn't have to do that," Dante told him.

"Yeah, I did." The lights were on now, and there was blood on Nero's right hand and forearm, although it looked like the kid had made an effort to clean it off.

That reminded Dante of something. "You get into a scuffle this evening?"

"Kind of. Why?"

Dante got close and put his nose into Nero's hair, which Nero tolerated without question. The smell of blood was faint, but still there. "What with?"

"A couple of guys. Don't worry, I didn't hurt them much."

There was no hint of human blood in the scent, only Nero's, which made Dante wonder what the kid had done. Had he just let a couple of humans beat him up? Well, whatever. "I left you some hot water."

"Okay." Nero turned, before going, and pulled Dante into yet another long kiss, long enough that Dante was starting to think about pushing the kid up against the wall for a second round by the time Nero backed away. He turned off the light on his way out, and said, "Good night."

Dante got back into bed and closed his eyes, and was disappointed to discover that his shower and the clean sheets meant that none of Nero's scent lingered.

* * *

Nero wasn't home the next morning when Dante got up, but he'd left a note. _Out on a job, sounds like no big deal. Back by dinner._ Dante wadded it up, wishing _he_ could get to kill some devils every now and again.

This left him with nothing to do but hang around the office. Normally that was how Dante preferred to spend his days, but today it meant his mind turned back to Lady's request. He wound up at the pool table again, just to have something to do with his hands while he chewed on the idea of fathering a child.

Had this just kind of been sprung on him as a _fait accompli,_ with some woman walking up to him with a white-haired baby with no warning, would it feel any different? Dante wondered if he'd have this ambivalence in the face of an actual, flesh-and-blood child. He was really careful, both in terms of contraception and in terms of whom he chose to screw, precisely because he _didn't_ ever want to deal with that kind of surprise.

What if it had happened, though? Dante imagined Lady just presenting him with a baby one day, out of nowhere, and tried to work through the feelings that elicited.

A little after noon Dante called to order pizza, and a few minutes later the door opened but it wasn't the pizza delivery. It was the mafia guy again.

"Raymond, right?" said Dante.

"You remember me!" Raymond put a hand to his chest, melodramatic as hell. "I am so touched!"

Dante set down the pool cue. "I like to know people's names before I trash them. It gives me something to tell the EMTs when I call 911."

Raymond tsked, and said, "Now, nobody's said anything about violence."

"That's not true. I just did."

"Mr. Dante ..." Raymond paused, and said, "Do you have a last name?"

"Never needed one," said Dante. "Devils always know who I am."

"Yeah," said Raymond. "Speaking of that."

The man took a few steps toward the weapons on the wall behind Dante's desk, and Dante leaned back against the pool table, almost hoping the fellow would try to take Rebellion down off the wall. "There is, as I'm sure you know," said Raymond, "a persistent devil problem in this town."

"You don't say."

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about why that might be, would you?"

Dante had some very good ideas as to why that might be, but he wasn't interested in sharing them. Everyone knew about the tower, years ago; everyone knew about Abigail, years ago. There was no need to explain why that kind of shit kept happening here. He just watched Raymond move around the room without giving an answer, until the man got bored of waiting for one.

"Mrs. P is interested in maybe cleaning the place up a bit," said Raymond finally.

"And run me out of business?" said Dante. "How sweet of her."

"Nah, it ain't like that." Raymond gave Dante a wide grin, and moved away from the weapons without having touched any of them. "She'd like to give you a permanent position. A steady paycheck, you might say."

"It's weird," said Dante, "but somehow I'm just not tempted. Cut the shit, okay? You know money's not important to me. Make your threats so I can laugh in your face and get it over with."

"Threats?" Raymond chuckled. "I would never dream of threatening you. Where's your partner?"

Did the mob plan to threaten Nero? Dante thought that might be hilarious; Nero would wipe the floor with them. "He had an appointment to get his nails done," said Dante.

"He's a good fighter. He found that demon and took it out like it was nothing. We all thought it was just a cat, but he knew right away that it wasn't."

Where was this going? Dante couldn't figure it out, and he wanted to somehow force whatever this was about into the open. "Did your boss get my letter?"

"Oh, yes, indeed," said Raymond, "and let me tell you, Mrs. P was _deeply_ grieved that you couldn't accept her invitation. She would, in fact, like for me to extend it again. Believe me, you don't want to turn it down again."

"I'm tired of looking at you," said Dante. "I'm going to count to five, and if you aren't out the door by then I'm going to put you into the hospital."

"Mr. Dante, let's not ..."

"One," said Dante.

"... do anything violent," Raymond continued, but he took a step backward toward the door." "Mrs. P really does ..."

"Two," said Dante, and he stood up straight.

Raymond retreated further. "Really, you don't want to refuse her again."

Dante extended his arm, extended a wisp of power, and Rebellion flew off the wall and into his hand. "Three," he said.

That was all it took; Raymond was out the door two seconds later, leaving it open in his haste.

After shutting the door, Dante put his sword back in its place and sat down at his desk. He was annoyed now, and he still didn't know what kind of pressure the mafia was planning to put onto him. It could be anything, really. Last time he'd had to rebuild the interior of the shop, and that had been hella expensive.

This was something else he should keep in mind, he realized, before he elected to breed. This wasn't the first time the mafia had set its sights on him, and he doubted it would be the last.

The pizza finally came, and having some food put Dante into a better frame of mind, at least for a while. He decided to have a nap, just because Nero was not in the building and that meant he could.

He woke when Nero got home, the kid's approach to the building rousing him before the door opened. It was completely dark, but for a few patches from the yellow streetlights; he'd gone to sleep in early afternoon, and had apparently slept the entire day away.

When Nero walked in, the light of his arm in the darkened room put strange shadows across his face. "What are you doing down here?" he asked. "I figured ... I thought you'd be asleep."

"I was." Dante stretched, and stood up, and went to turn on a light. Nero crossed the room before Dante reached the switch, dropped his sword and gun unceremoniously onto the couch, and was in the bathroom by the time the lights were on.

"You okay?" Dante called, mildly concerned.

"Yeah," said Nero through the door, but after a moment the smell of the kid's blood reached Dante, thick and fresh.

He walked over to the couch to examine Red Queen and Blue Rose. There was no hint of devil blood anywhere and the blade showed no sign of use, but the sharp bite of gunpowder lingered in the gun's muzzle and the cylinder was empty. Shit. What had the kid done, _shot_ a devil to death? It wasn't like that was impossible, but Nero used regular bullets and had to reload, and something had gotten close enough to tear him up.

The shower came on. Dante put the weapons back down, and went over to his desk to wait.

Nero took a ridiculously long shower, more than twenty minutes, and Dante had to wonder just how ripped up the kid was if it was taking him this long to heal into presentability. Mid way through it began to rain, inaudible over the sound of the shower at first, then strengthening until the rain was lashing against the windows.

After the shower shut off, it took another fifteen minutes for Nero to come out. When he did, he had a towel over his shoulders and he kept himself turned away from Dante, but he was unsuccessful in concealing a limp, and Dante could already smell the blood again.

Wondering who the kid thought he was fooling, Dante said, "Why don't you just show me?"

"I'll be fine soon," said Nero. He went to his stack of folded, clean clothes and pulled a tank top off of it.

"I'm not questioning that," said Dante.

Nero hesitated with the shirt in his hand, and then he pulled the towel off his shoulders and turned around.

The gashes through his chest and belly looked to be nearly healed, but the ones slicing through his upper left arm were not and were still bleeding a little. The wounds on his abdomen disappeared into the hem of his pants, and Dante wondered, with some shock, how much damage the pants themselves concealed. Puncture wounds were visible up Nero's left forearm, four of them in a straight row from his wrist to his elbow that had gone all the way through, and two more through his right shoulder, above where the armored plating yielded to pale skin. Those wounds, too, were still oozing blood.

"... what the hell happened?" asked Dante.

Nero pulled the shirt over his head, moving slowly and with pain. "I'll be fine," he said.

"Did you kill it, at least?" Because if he hadn't, Dante was going to go out right now and do it himself.

"I didn't expect you to be up. I'll be _fine_ in the morning."

Dante had no doubt of that, especially if Nero got something to eat in the meantime, but he couldn't stop staring at the punctures in the kid's arm. Had something _tortured_ him?

Nero glanced up, and then frowned at Dante. "What?" he said.

"What the hell happened?"

"Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."

"At least tell me you killed the thing." Dante didn't understand why the kid was being so evasive. He didn't understand anything. He couldn't stop looking at those wounds. _What had happened?_ What could possibly maul Nero this badly?

Nero pulled out of those zip-up hoodies he wore and put it on, and this, too, caused him visible pain. He pushed up the sleeves at first, like he always did, but then pulled the left one back down to conceal the wounds on his forearm. Dante could still smell the blood they dripped.

"There's nothing to kill," said Nero at last. "No demons at all."

It took many seconds for the meaning of that to sink in, and when it did Dante stood up and whipped his sword off the wall in a single motion. He barely felt the hilt in his hand; he barely felt it when Nero grabbed him by the shoulders.

"No!" Nero yelled in his face. "Dante, you can't!"

"I ... think I can," said Dante. It was as though there was a transparent barrier between himself and his own emotions, somehow numbing him to the rage that he knew was on the other side, but the rage was there and it was screaming. He could feel it screaming. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I can."

"No, you can't!" Nero shoved him backward, and although it was a weak little push by Nero's usual standards, it was surprising enough to make Dante take a step back. "Do you think I let them staple me to a wall for _no reason?"_

Dante's thought process hadn't advanced that far and he really didn't have an answer for that. Trying to come up with one shut him down for the moment, and he took another step back when Nero pushed him again.

This was unreal. But Nero was right up in Dante's face and the stench of the kid's blood was _very_ real, suffusing the air like a thick fog. A terrible pressure was building in Dante's chest as the rage tried to break through, become manifest, and he felt a snarl rise in his throat. He was going to kill them. He was _going to kill them._

"No," said Nero again, and he put his hands on Dante's chest. "Dante, just ... just calm down, okay? It's not that bad. I'm going to be _fine in the morning."_

There was a moment when the rage erupted, when the screaming started, and Dante's vision went white around the edges and he was about to just go straight through Nero and then do _something,_ something violent, something _terrible,_ something ripping and tearing and bloody and murderous, to _kill_ and to _maim_ and to make those humans cower and scream the way the fury was screaming inside him, to unleash hell itself upon this earth and make them _suffer._

Then Nero punched him in the face, and Dante reacted instantly, slamming his assailant down, and Nero cracked backward against the desk and cried out in agony.

The sound of it was a shock, and Dante realized suddenly what he'd done, horror washing against the fury. "... I'm sorry," he said. _Shit._ What was he doing? What had he just done to Nero? "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, kid." He tried to help Nero back up but the kid just brushed him off and got up without assistance.

"I'm going to be fine," said Nero, yet again. "Don't go ballistic." He rolled his shoulder, slowly, wincing.

Dante was still angry, but he knew he had to keep control of it. Nero was right. He couldn't walk out the door with the devil in him in command and start slaughtering people. Maybe a similar line of reasoning had kept Nero from really fighting back, although Dante didn't know why the kid hadn't _hurt_ them.

"You've done worse than this to me before," said Nero. "It's not a big deal."

"Have I?" Dante doubted that. Their twisted kind of foreplay was violent, but he'd never done anything that had taken Nero hours and hours to heal. Sometimes Nero had to trigger to do it, though, which made Dante wonder why the kid wasn't doing that now.

The only real answer was that he _had,_ and then someone had hurt him _more_ after he was exhausted. Fucking hell, they literally had tortured him.

The wailing began again, at the edges of Dante's consciousness, but he crushed it down.

"Yes," said Nero. "You have. Lighten up, okay?"

Dante didn't know how the kid could be so nonchalant about this. If he said he was okay, Dante sort of had to believe it, even though he really didn't. "Fine," he said. "You're sleeping upstairs tonight." When Nero started to argue, Dante held up his hand and added, "Shut the hell up. I mean it. I'll take the couch."

"... all right."

It didn't take much more than that to get the kid upstairs to sleep, just some promises that Dante wouldn't leave after Nero was asleep to mete out revenge. Dante laid down on the couch, not even bothering to take off his shirt or boots because he wasn't remotely tired.

There was no question about whether Dante was going to retaliate. The only question was how to do it, and how to avoid killing everyone in his path in the process.

* * *

The following morning Nero woke with a broken cry that carried all the way down the stairs. Dante pretended he hadn't heard it, and a few minutes later the kid came down looking a little mussed but not like he'd just screamed himself awake.

"Good morning," said Dante. He pointed to the white styrofoam container on the desk. "I brought you breakfast."

"What is it?" Nero crossed the room to investigate, and then said, "All right!" when he saw the hamburger inside. He sat down on the edge of the desk to eat it, and Dante watched the lingering marks on the kid's forearm begin to fade as he devoured the food.

Dante had gone through the clothes Nero had left in a bloody pile on the bathroom floor, and he had a good idea now of what kind of injures the kid had sustained. He was furious, absolutely furious, but Nero seemed to have recovered almost completely so he was able to keep a grip on it.

"We're going to accept your nice mafia lady's invitation to dinner tonight," said Dante, and he noted how Nero paused at this.

"... okay."

"I need you to tell me why you didn't fight back."

Nero took another couple of bites of his breakfast before replying, more slowly now. "They had this girl," he said. "Said they'd kill her. It's not like that was the first time someone pinned me to a wall and ran me through. I knew I could handle it."

Dante nodded. It made sense. He'd have to take that into account. "We'll leave here around six," he said. "There's time for you to wash your coat if you want."

"No," said Nero. "I'll wear it like it is."

* * *

They reached the mafia boss's home a little before seven, and Dante assumed they were being followed so he didn't bother trying to conceal what he was doing. The house was set far back from the main road, not even visible through a screen of trees until halfway up the driveway. It looked nice enough, with a tan stone façade and nicely-trimmed shrubbery, and a circular driveway, kind of like a McMansion except with more yardage.

A man came out the front door when Dante parked the car. He was dressed in a nice suit and looked like a bodyguard, so Dante tossed him the keys. "Don't scratch it," he said, "and I don't want to find any bombs in it when we're done here."

The man threw the keys straight back at him. "Mrs. Polizzi is waiting for you."

Dante hitched his sword to his back as Nero got out of the car. "I'm sure she is," said Dante. Nero slung his own sword into place; the weapon didn't quite cover the gaping rips in the back of his coat, and the black bloodstains all over it made the garment look like patchwork.

Dante looked the guy over before walking by him into the house. He was probably armed, Dante thought, and probably right-handed, so the first shot should go into his right shoulder. Then Dante could hamstring him and put him on the ground, and then ... well, then anything would be possible. That was a lovely idea, and Dante gave the bodyguard a warm smile as he went into the house.

The inside of the house was exquisite, with a marble double staircase going up to the second floor just inside the front door, and fresh orchids in a vase on a white sideboard. It _looked_ like money, and Dante wondered if he was meant to be impressed.

"My parents had a house like this," he commented to the bodyguard. "Then devils ripped them apart. I think they took my mom's head off at the top of the stairs. Has anyone ever been killed at the top of these stairs?"

"This way," said the bodyguard.

"Because if not," said Dante, "I can change that."

Nero said nothing, and when Dante looked his way the kid's face was impassive, but there was a tightness at the corners of his lips that spoke to something beneath the mask. He reeked of old blood.

Through a door on one side of the staircase was a sitting room with floor-to-ceiling windows that must have been magnificent during the daytime. A woman and a teenaged girl were there, looking up as they came through the door.

"Dante," said the woman with a smile. "I'm so glad you came." She looked to be in her mid-sixties, if Dante were any judge, wearing a pale suit. She stood to greet them, and turned her smile on Nero. "Nero, dear. I'm glad you're feeling better."

The teenager stayed seated, and she was staring at Nero with her mouth actually open. The mob boss lady didn't acknowledge the blood on Nero's coat or the fact that both devil hunters were armed, and in fact looked completely at ease, as though this were a normal dinner party.

That was interesting. Dante wondered if she had a different trick to pull on him, or if she thought this lone hostage was enough to ensure his good behavior. He glanced around; there was a second bodyguard at the other door to the room, and the one who had shown them in here was still behind them. He didn't see or hear any more.

Was she _really_ this confident that she could control him?

"Dinner will be ready momentarily," said the boss lady. "Would you please join me?"

The teenaged girl stood up at the boss's beckon, and the four of them went through the other door and into a dining room that seemed smallish for this type of house. The table was oval and had four place settings, and a bottle of wine was already open. The bodyguards followed, and Dante watched them take up position in the corners of the room.

The other one was also armed, Dante decided, and also right-handed. He could disable and drop them both in four shots. If he knew anything about the mafia, the boss lady would also be armed, and he looked her over, marking out exactly how where he was going to put bullets into her if it came to that.

Then he walked over to the table and picked up the bottle of wine, and gave it a sniff. The wine smelled normal. "Planning to get me liquored up? I'm charmed."

The boss lady laughed, like he'd made a joke or something. "Dante, please," she said. "This is a _business_ proposal that I'm making."

"I've heard your proposal." Dante took a seat at the head of the table, taking off his sword as he sat and leaning it against his thigh. "I thought it was bullshit. Then you decided to put some extra holes into Nero, and if you thought that would make me _more_ receptive, you haven't done your homework." He poured a glass of wine and offered it to Nero.

The boss lady was silent for a few seconds, and Nero took the chair on Dante's right; gory dust flaked off his coat as the fabric flexed. He, too, leaned his sword against his leg, and then he sipped the wine.

"Hey," he said. "This is pretty good."

"That was business," said the boss lady. "You weren't taking me seriously, Dante."

"Oh, I'm taking you _very_ seriously now," said Dante, and his voice deepened involuntarily under the words.

"Dante," said Nero, and his name was a warning. _Get yourself under control._

The teenaged hostage was staring at her hands. If shooting started, Dante's first priority would be to get her out of the way, and he couldn't count on her having the wits to throw herself to the floor. He could get her under the table, he thought, with minimum damage.

He poured a second glass of wine for himself and it was, indeed, pretty good. "I took Mundus seriously," he said. "Would you care to guess where I put him?"

"Let's be realistic," said the mob boss. "You know what I'm prepared to do."

"Do you know what _I'm_ prepared to do?" Dante asked.

"You don't kill humans."

Dante smiled, and a little of his rage leaked into it. "Do you really think that _killing_ you is the worst I can do?"

For the first time, a hint of what might have been doubt crossed the woman's face. Dante wanted that doubt to become fear. He wanted this mob boss terrified of him. He wanted all of these humans on their knees, begging him for mercy. "Humans are fragile," said Dante. "One bullet is enough to cripple you. I could break your hands right off your arms, like breaking a piece of celery. I could destroy some of your internal organs and make you dependent upon machines for the rest of your life. Would you enjoy that? I think I might."

"You can't talk to Mrs. P that way, "said one of the bodyguards, and he stepped threatening into the room.

"Arnold," said the woman, and the bodyguard stopped where he was. To Dante, she said, "There has clearly been a serious misunderstanding."

Her voice was much less confident now, but she didn't sound afraid yet. "Do you understand," said Dante, rage rising once more and his voice again deepening, "that I could have you and both your men on the floor in agony before any of you draws a gun? Do you understand how very deeply I want to _hurt_ you right now?"

"Dante," said Nero, again as a warning.

Dante took a breath and looked down at his hand; wisps of red-black power were oozing out of his skin. He knocked back the rest of the wine in his glass and stood up. The one bodyguard took a step backward; Dante wondered if his eyes were shining yet.

The fury _wanted_ to come out, and Dante _wanted_ to indulge it. Nero was right, of course; he had to stay in control. He couldn't paint this room red the way his instincts demanded. But the instinct was strong, and he _wanted_ to.

Something of that must have been visible; something of his desire to maim these humans must have come out in his expression, because all of them were frightened now. The boss lady was hiding it, but not very well, and her eyes were wide and her pupils dark. The bodyguard who had moved beside her, and now had his hand in his jacket, had broken out in a cold sweat. The girl they were holding hostage was openly terrified and trembling. Dante smiled, and he knew his smile was full of fangs.

The boss lady cleared her throat, and said, "I'm sorry you can't see the benefits of working with us."

"I really can't," said Dante. "I'm going to leave now. I'm going to take that young lady with me. And I'm never going to hear from you again, and you're not going to come near me or Nero again. If you do, I'll be back here, and I'll be much less happy than I am today."

The boss lady didn't reply. Dante beckoned to the teenaged girl. She was at first reluctant to move, but she eventually did take a step, and then dashed across the room, not to Dante but to Nero. The kid put an arm around her and took her straight out of the room.

With the hostage out of the way and Nero gone, the temptation to deal at least _some_ violence became nearly too much. Dante's nostrils flared as he imagined how these humans' blood would smell, how it would taste. He wouldn't have to break them, just ... crack them a little. It wouldn't take much. He could snap their fingers off. Maybe just one finger apiece.

But no. If he started, he wouldn't stop.

He raised his hand, and shattered every window in the room, every plate and glass on the table, the watches on their arms, the glass door of the hutch in the corner. The three humans dove for cover, and Dante forced himself to turn, and follow Nero out of the room.

Outside, the temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees in the short time since Dante had entered the house. He paused just outside the front door to take a breath, and get a grip. Nero was leaning against the car with the hostage girl clutching him. Dante half-expected to find her sobbing when he approached, but she was just clinging to the kid's arm. He told them to get into the car, and Nero slid into the back seat with the girl.

"What's your name?" Dante asked as he started the car.

She didn't reply immediately, and Dante wondered if she was frightened of him. "Dolores Albrecht," she said eventually. "I'm ... Are you going to take me home?" Her voice was very quiet, and yes, still terrified.

"If you tell me where it is." Dante checked the rearview mirror as he pulled around the circular driveway; she seemed to be holding Nero's left hand. "This your new girlfriend, Nero?"

"Hah," said Nero. "She's like fourteen."

"I thought they'd killed you," said Dolores.

"I'm fine. Look, just tell us where you live and we'll get you home."

She lived in an inner-ring suburb, less than two miles from Devil May Cry. As Dante drove there, Nero again reassured her that he was _fine,_ really, that demons were hard to kill, and then the two in the back seat went quiet. Dante wondered if she believed it, given that Nero was dressed like he'd just busted out of his own grave, but in the end it didn't really matter.

Dante stopped on the street outside Dolores' house, and when Nero acted like he was going to see her to her door Dante reached out the car window and grabbed the kid by the arm.

"Don't," he said. After a moment Nero nodded, and went around to get into the front seat, and Dante drove off before the girl reached her front door, or had a chance to turn around and notice that Nero wasn't coming.

* * *

That evening, Dante tried again to get the kid to sleep upstairs, but Nero refused.

"I feel fine now," Nero said. "Really." Then he looked over at Dante and asked, "How are _you?"_

"Less homicidal," said Dante.

"That's good." He looked like there was more he wanted to say, but in the end he just turned away. Since Dante wasn't willing to resort to force to get the kid upstairs, he had no choice but to leave Nero downstairs on the couch.

It was early when Dante woke, not long after dawn, but he remained in bed for a while, waiting for some kind of sound from downstairs to tell him that Nero was awake. It was a long wait, and his mind cycled back again and again to the marks he'd seen on the kid's body, and the way he knew they'd been inflicted, until he heard water running and knew it was okay now to get up.

Nero was at the pool table when Dante came downstairs. "I'm starving," said the kid as he sank two balls in the side pockets, and the cue ball came to rest in almost the center of the table. "Let me know when you're ready to go."

"In a few minutes." There were a lot of things Dante wanted to say to Nero right now. That it would be okay if he didn't want to work for a while. That it would make Dante feel better if he slept upstairs, so that Dante could watch the front door at night. That what had happened wasn't Nero's fault.

That it would be fine if Nero _wasn't_ fine. That he was allowed to be not-fine right now.

Dante wished he could say any of these things without provoking Nero's temper. He settled for passing close to the kid on the way to the bathroom, and trying to give him a kiss on the side of the neck.

Nero moved before the kiss connected, and went around the pool table to the other side. He leaned down to take a shot, but the angle was wrong and all of the balls missed.

"After we eat," said Nero, "I want to wash my coat. Know anywhere I can take it to get the extra ventilation removed?"

"Yeah. There's a tailor up on Fifth. She's fixed coats of mine a time or two." Nero's coat was denim, except for the lining, so the seams would probably be almost invisible. Dante just hoped they could get all the stains out, so that Nero looked less like a murder victim when he wore it.

In the meantime, at least the kid had a second coat. Dante took it off the coatrack to look it over; Nero never wore it, but it was a beautiful gunmetal gray, made of wool with a heavy but flexible hand. Not the kind of thing to go devil hunting in, but it'd keep the kid warm until his other one was repaired. "I don't know what Fortuna is like in the winter," Dante said, "but it gets cold here."

"I'll be fine," said Nero, and pool balls cracked against one another.

"Yeah," said Dante. "I know."


End file.
